The Silence I Hear
by Christine Writer
Summary: Based off of the 2007 movie, starring Nathalia Ramos as Yasmine and Ian Nelson as Dylan. Full summary inside. ONESHOT!


Disclaimer: I don't own _Bratz _or Yas or Dylan.

Summary: A continuation of the scene where Yas and Dylan meet.

Dylan was walking down the hallway at school, minding his own business, and suddenly he was on the ground. What had happened?

Dylan looked up to find a pretty girl with reddish hair standing up. She was asking him a question, and as he got up and handed her books to her, he processed what she'd said. Her glossed lips conveyed her words: "Are you blind?" And then, "_Hello_?" She obviously wanted to know why he was staring at her.

"No, but I'm deaf." he answered her question, adding the American Sign Language sign for "deaf". She looked confused.

"What?" she asked, disbelief written all over her features.

"I'm deaf." he repeated, using the sign again.

"You don't _sound _deaf." the girl said, searching his face for traces of a joke.

"Well, you don't look ignorant, but I guess you can't judge a book, right?" he commented, walking away.

"Wait!" she called after him. He pretended he hadn't seen her say the word, and kept on walking. He was sick and tired of people assuming that he was mute, or worse, that he was trying to play a joke on them. She chased after him and caught him by the shoulder.

"I'm sorry." she said to him, once he was facing her. They found a bench tucked into the corridor, and sat down.

"Why did you assume I was mute?" he asked bluntly.

"Because I thought most deaf people were mute." she admitted honestly.

"I don't know the exact ratio, but most deaf people can talk. It's just that their voices aren't used much." he told her.

"Well, I'm Yasmine. My friends call me Yas." she introduced herself.

"I'm Dylan." he automatically signed his name as well as speaking it.

"It's nice to meet you." she smiled. Her eyes burned with a question he knew she wasn't going to ask.

"I wasn't always deaf." he stated, matter-of-factly.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I was too close to my dad when he set off some fireworks when I was twelve."

"Is it hard?" she asked, not pityingly, but sympathetically.

"Three years now, and I'm still expecting to wake up and suddenly be able to hear again." he shook his head. "It's called sensorineural hearing loss. It's when the nerves in your ears are so fratched that they just give up their function."

"What do you hear?" Yas asked, not unkindly.

"Silence." he told her, tears coming to his eyes. "Twelve years of blissful sound, and then _nothing_ at all."

"What do you miss the most?" she wondered.

"I miss the sounds of my family's voices, and my alarm clock, and most of all, I miss being able to hear the piano."

"Do you play?"

"Not anymore." His face was now downcast, but she lifted his chin to look at her.

"Why not?" she challenged him. "Beethoven was deaf, and he played just fine."

"It's _different_."

"No, it's not!" she contradicted him.

"What would I do, then?" he asked, almost vehemently. "Try to play the piano through feeling it? That might have worked for Beethoven, but not for me. I can't exactly cut the legs off of a piano."

"You just might be able to." she smiled, and took him by the hand back down to the music room. Choir had finished, but the teacher was still there.

"Dylan?" the teacher questioned. "You into music?" Dylan shook his head, but Yasmine took control, introducing herself to the music teacher and striding over to a portable keyboard.

"Put this in your lap." she instructed. He obeyed, and began to play "Rhapsody in Blue." The chords were a little off, but it was a good start.

"Here." the music teacher offered him a set of headphones. "Put the jack into the headphone slot and feel the music against your neck." Dylan once more obeyed, and the room filled with silence as he played with the headphones against his neck. As Dylan composed his silent symphony, Yas realized that she was experiencing what he had been for three years. The ability to see the piano, and to know it was being played, but powerless to hear or understand what the person was playing. Tears filled her eyes, and Dylan stopped.

"What's wrong?" he asked, moving the piano and standing up. Yas waved him away.

"Nothing's wrong." she told him clearly. "I just wanted to thank you for making me walk in your shoes." He nodded understandingly and enveloped her into a hug.

"You're a special person, Yas." he smiled, and Yas realized that while she would have to face him to speak, she didn't need to say anything at all.


End file.
